


Back and Forth Through My Mind

by cousinrayray



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, C137cest, Cigarettes, First Time, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot-ish, Smoking, Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray
Summary: Morty smokes. Rick is surprisingly angry about it. It devolves from there.Angst and sinful feels here, wrapped in a vague emo cigarette motif, if that's your thing.





	Back and Forth Through My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I like smoking. That's the basis for most of this. These guys will toss their inhibitions away over anything these days, what's next, an untied shoelace? 
> 
> Enjoy.

Morty loved the pained tenseness of smoke in his lungs.

When he smoked cigarettes he chain smoked them, four or five in a row, or however long it took to make him lightheaded. It had taken less, in the beginning, and he had upped his amount to chase that feeling, his lungs hardening and learning to appreciate the burn as he went. 

Tonight, two years and three quarters of a pack in, sitting by his window in the dark, that pleasant dizzy numbness was playing hard to get, indeed. With a lit cigarette in hand he turned to his little box and withdrew a bag of weed and some papers. He began rolling with the ease and speed of practice, puffing absently as he worked. 

He lit it even before he finished the cig, placing them together with a self-mockingly satisfied smile to inhale in one go. The taste of weed was as welcome as the other, the earthiness and harshness of either blending and he sighed as contentment stole in. It was a petty little kingdom, but it was his. 

“Morty, y-you're not gonna believe the shi-eigh-it storm I just set off,” said Rick in a strange stage whisper as he opened the door and shut it quietly behind him. 

Then he lurched forward and continued far more loudly, apparent concern for being quiet forgotten, “it's- it's a fucking great opportunity, Morty, lo-ough-ong, uh, to make a long story short there’s a regency deposed and a- and more than a fair share of blarznoobs to go around for everyone, kn-know what I'm sayin’ Morty, y-y-you jivin’ with me?”

He reached Morty and leaned down to give him a shake on the shoulder, his face singlemindedly eager. Then he seemed to suddenly notice the cigarette and joint still burning in Morty's hand. Morty had never put them out or away, gripped with a bizarre calm fatalism. It was a near-miracle Rick hadn't walked in on Morty smoking before, and he had come in shortly after often enough that he surely had known what was up. 

But he still looked pretty annoyed right now. 

“Jesus, M-ourgh-rty, you're a real c-class act, aren't ya?”

His gaze fell to the filled ashtray on the sill beside him, and his nose curled further. “What the- what the fuck Morty, how many- eurghh- fucking cigarettes are you smoking?” 

Well if that didn't just take the cake. 

Morty barked out a laugh, startling himself slightly, “W-what? For real? Rick are you- are you seriously doing this? Where do you get off?”

“Do you think you're some big fucking man now, Morty? Big grown-up giving yourself cancer, gettin’ addicted to some stupid drug that- that doesn't even get you high?”

“Rick, it does get me high,” Morty began, the rationalizations he routinely gave himself coming forth easily. “It- it relaxes me, m-makes me chill the fuck out. Shit, you know I need to. And at least it's legal, you know? I'm not- I'm not shooting up dope in an alleyway here or something.”

“What a bunch of fucking shit, M-Morty. Justifications based on-on legality? I- I expect better, e-e-even from yo-ough-ou. And what, what do you know, may-maybe you should try not being such an emo little flower, ‘stead of sucking d-disease sitting on your windowsill.” 

He plucked the offending items out of Morty’s hand and ground them into the ashtray, coming down to kneel at Morty’s level like he was about to launch a full drunken lecture. 

“Oh fuck off, Rick.” He may have been going too far, but this was too much. The fucking audacity alone was too much. “You're hammered r-right fucking now, you hypocrite. Shouldn't we both just be glad I'm not more like you? A guzzling sociopath? It's a, a fucking miracle after everything, you know, I mean, you've tainted every o-other part of me. What I do to cope w-with it is none of your business,” 

Morty trailed off, not certain where he was going and worried he was about to veer into more dangerous subjects. He wasn't going to get anywhere, he felt tired, finally, and wanted Rick to leave before he made more of an ass of himself. 

He met Rick's eyes, ready for them to be angry and launching a counterattack. But Rick’s face was flat, his eyes wide in his skull and his mouth opening hesitantly, like Morty had wounded him, and it was so frustrating because Rick was drunk, it meant nothing. Everything meant nothing during these fun little chats in the middle of the night. 

Part of Morty noticed that he had leaned in slightly closer to Rick, or maybe Rick had leaned in closer to him. His eyes darted entirely by reflex to Rick's mouth, and fuck, Rick noticed and his blue eyes widened ever-so slightly, his mouth undoubtedly about to start talking once more, telling Morty off for this new mistake and if he had already exposed himself he might as well fucking go for it. 

Morty leaned forward and kissed him, hesitant but there, hoping maybe it wouldn't matter at 3 am when he was tired and sad and Rick was drunk but knowing that it absolutely, positively would. 

And then holy mother of god, he realized that Rick was kissing him back, he wasn't sitting there shocked or passive, his grandfather's mouth was moving softly and insistently against his own. Morty pulled back with a gasp, his eyes wide and his voice choked when he said, “H-holy shit,” blinking stupidly. “W-what the… r-really?” 

Rick's eyes shifted downwards. 

Then Morty knew. He knew with a rushing, falling sensation that if he were to touch Rick now he would find him interested. 

He groaned quietly and went in for another kiss, opening his mouth to cigarettes and booze and sin, his hand straying down to press against Rick’s crotch. He wanted to know for sure. 

He just barely glanced against something firm, he was absolutely sure of it, before his hand was captured and tugged away. 

“No, Morty,” Rick said flatly, surprisingly soberly. “I- we- we’re not-- this is enough, this, this is b-bad enough Morty.”

He brought Morty’s hand gently back over to his own groin and placed it there with a suggestive press, before releasing it. 

Morty gaped, his hand tingling madly from the contact, burning where the pressure of Rick's larger hand had pushed, and he began palming himself as Rick initiated a kiss, leaning in with a soft noise to nip and coax at his bottom lip. 

Morty moaned and melted against Rick, his hand almost forgotten as pulses of pleasure seemed to link an obscure route between lips and cock. It was blinding, so much more than it should be. Rick's hand came to the small of his back, fisted into his shirt as he consumed Morty’s mouth with a growl. 

“Fuck, kid. Good f-fuckin’ god,” Rick broke off with a pant as Morty pushed him back to sit on the floor and climbed over a long leg. He settled with a whining thrust against it as he reclaimed Rick's mouth. Rick swore, his hands coming to squeeze on Morty's hips, talking into Morty’s mouth,

“You're fucking crazy, kid, I-I mean, shit, Jesus fuck, it’s, fuck you, goddamn it M-Morty no!” Rick sharply broke off the groan he had been trailing into at the end and grabbed Morty’s wrist, which had snuck down to press on his crotch again. He froze and glared at Morty fiercely. “Fucking stop or this stops, you pervy little bitch,” he bit out. 

Morty huffed. If he wanted to make petty distinctions that was fine with him. And that blaze of fire in Rick’s eyes only wound him up tighter. “F-fine, but, p-please touch me at least, I-I wanna get off,” he said with a needy groan. He really did feel like he was going crazy, maybe Rick was right. Why did this feel so hot? How could he possibly be this turned on by simple touches, from his grandfather for God’s sake? Maybe it was just the surreality of a long-harbored fantasy becoming reality. Either way he felt trembling and desperate already. 

Rick’s eyes burned into him as he grinded into the man’s leg, feeling himself teeter so tortuously close to the edge, and after a moment's pause Rick’s hand pushed forward into the small of his back, making Morty arch as he pressed his lips just below the line of his jaw. His long pale hand came down to ghost the faintest slow pressure along the bulging outline of Morty’s cock, and Morty could hear the faintest shaky exhale come from the man as he did so. Then Morty came in an explosive jerk, whining through gritted teeth as he clenched his hands into Rick's hair. He tugged his grandfather closer while relentless throbs moved through him until he was weak and empty. 

He let go hurriedly as he came down, body twitching and heart galloping. God that was… intense. He shifted on his perch of Rick’s leg, and felt a sudden need to take the next step, to put it all out there while he was still glowy and open and stupid. 

“Rick… I'm gonna want to d-do so-something like this again.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Morty, why don't- why don't you just fucking say it, if you're so, so sex positive about the whole goddam thing.” Rick was snarling, all of the sudden a trapped animal as he pushed Morty back and off of him. 

Morty flushed, angry and embarrassed, feeling a vague sense that things weren't going to go well as he shot back, “F-fine. G-grinding on my grandfather's leg while he kissed and touched me until I came felt amazing, f-for both of us I think. And therefore I-I think we should do that again, or more likely move on to doing other s-shit to each-”

“Stop, alright, I, I get it.” 

Rick sighed and his head dropped. When he finally spoke it was too his hands. 

“Ohh, M-Morty.”

It made Morty’s chest feel tight, made him want to fidget and wish he could lighten things up somehow, but he remained still. 

Rick continued in a tired tone, not looking at him, “Wait… wait until the contempt s-sets in, Morty. Wait until that comes, and if… if we make it through that and you still want it then you can ask me again.”

Morty wanted to say that was absurd, that he wouldn't hate Rick for this, or that he already had plenty of better reasons to hate Rick and they had made it so far, but he didn't. Instead he thought quietly, then said,

“Why, why um, w-why are you into… Is it, is it that I- I'm young, o-or is it, would you… w-want to with Summer?” He can feel himself shrinking, his heart suddenly feeling fluttery. Maybe he was less ok than he thought. 

“No. No, I- I don't know.” The words sounded like they were being pulled out by a fishhook, coughing and damaging. “I don't think so, Morty. Def- definitely not kids, probably not Summer, though that's- that's probably more on target.” 

His face was absolutely buried in his hands now, Morty didn't think he had ever seen Rick look half so ashamed. He glanced at his grandson for the barest second, then his head lowered again. “M-Morty I'm not, I'm not a healthy person. I… L-lines exist more as a t-tem-temptation to cross than, than any sort of boundary to follow. I-I bond unhealthily. And you… I'm sort of overly attached to you, M-Morty. It ain't pretty.” His voice was getting rougher with every word. 

He stood suddenly, unsteadily and looked above Morty's head, his jaw working, and for a horrible moment Morty thought he might be about to apologize, or even cry. And if he did Morty would have a complete fit because this was feeling far too real all of a sudden, Rick's reaction had neatly stripped away any fuzzy haze of fantasy this had while they were doing it and all that was left was an unpleasant sinking in his stomach, like he was being made to share the creeping ramifications of the fact that Rick was the sort of man who would touch his grandson. He waited, paralyzed and dizzy. 

But Rick just finally muttered, “G-goodnight, kiddo,” his voice sounding flayed, and Morty shivered. 

Then Rick met his eye for one breathless second, tall and unstable in the dim light of Morty's room, and jerked around like he was on puppet strings, stumbling away from him as Morty blinked too-late and stammered, “Y-you too, Rick,” pity rushing in to take its place beside anxiety, guilt and blame, and shameful, lingering exhilaration. 

But the door shut before he could do anything about it. 

Morty breathed and went back to his window, doing his best to ignore the tremble in his hands as he reached out and put a cigarette in his mouth. 

But he could light it and inhale with the same thoughtless smooth motion as always, and after holding it in long enough to feel the familiar pull, he exhaled in sheer relief, a tired, wry motion tugging at the corner of his mouth as he rubbed his face and leaned his head against the window frame, and took another drag.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking I'm gonna make this a two shot at some point. Aaagh I have like 6 different fires going fuck. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :) Reviews always welcome.


End file.
